Let Him Go
by Kate Beckett's Golden Snitch
Summary: She wanted nothing more then to make him happy. But she couldn't. Takes place between The Doctor, The Widow and The Wardrobe and Asylum of Daleks. Contains suggestions of miscarriage.


**AN: Okay, so my recent obsession has been Doctor Who, and after watching the Asylum of Daleks I knew I had to write this one. Enjoy!**

After Christmas, after the Doctor leaves, she starts to feel it again. The bloating, the nausea, the tenderness. Just like before. And when her time of the month simply doesn't come, she decides to take a test.

Now she stares at it, red hair falling into her face. The little pink plus seemed to glare back at her, and it was scary. It really was. She leant against the cold wall, her stomach rolling. They were going to have a little one. A baby that they could watch grow, raise from infancy. Sure, there's fear, but the glimmer of excitement that she has is growing by the second.

They're going to have a baby.

:-:-:-:-:-:

She doesn't even get the chance to tell Rory.

He had gone on a spontaneous road trip with some mates, leaving her with a gentle kiss and a promise to be back next Thursday at the latest.

She is all alone when it starts. Cramping, spotting. All the telltale signs. Yet she tries to wait it out, lying on her side, fiercely attempting to keep back tears.

She can't call Rory. He doesn't need to worry about her, to worry about the baby that had hardly even been there.

She finally goes to the doctor on a Wednesday, and the sympathetic look on his face as he returns from checking tests is confirmation enough. That night, she goes home and cries. She cries for the little one, the one who never got the chance to exist. She cries for Rory, who is completely oblivious to the fact that a little piece of him and her was gone. But most of all, she cries because it was her fault, her body's fault, and there's nothing she can do.

Rory comes home on Thursday. She smiles and kisses him and looks genuinely happy. She makes him macaroni and cheese.

:-:-:-:-:-:

It's a late February night when he suggests that they start trying, and as much as she knew it was coming, the deep sorrow envelopes her and she leans closer into his chest.

He really, really wants children.

So she pastes on a smile and nods.

:-:-:-:-:-:

Her friend Bev comes over one afternoon, and she brings her three week old son with her. He's tiny, with pouty lips and a button-like nose, and she can see the tenderness in Rory's eyes that he reserves for children. It's a blow to her, and she has to sit next to him as he holds the infant, cooing gently. It gets worse when she takes him, and feels his warm weight against hers, and she blinks rapidly to hold back the liquid behind her eyelids. Rory mistakes it for compassion, and he presses a kiss to her forehead, murmuring something about how they'll have their own one day.

It makes the pain even worse. And then she realizes something.

She really wants to be a mom again.

:-:-:-:-:-:

It's been months since they started to try to conceive, and there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. She could see the spark beginning to leave Rory's eyes, and it was devastating. Her only ambition, her only wish right now, was to give him what he wanted. Hell, what they wanted.

So she goes to get more tests, just to make sure that everything's okay, that it isn't impossible.

As it turns out, it was.

She knows it was Demon's Run. Doesn't know what, but they had done something to her. Not that it mattered now.

All that mattered was that now, she couldn't.

:-:-:-:-:-:

When he starts working later, longer hours at the hospital, she doesn't mind. There are less nights when they can 'do things'. He's either home when she's sleeping, or simply too exhausted. It's a relief.

But at the same time, she has more moments when she is sitting alone at the kitchen table, when all she can think is how alone she feels. How alone she really is.

:-:-:-:-:-:

Apparently, her wavy red hair and long legs are model-craved. She gets a call from an agency, and of course she's excited. It's really an amazing opportunity, and she knows she would be a fool not to accept it. The thing is, it's really a full time job at the moment. Which would mean less nights with Rory.

She takes it.

:-:-:-:-:-:

She throws him out on a muggy April afternoon, giving him a couple hours to get his stuff together and then shutting the door behind him. He's shocked, and the look of hurt and confusion on his face nearly makes her break. Then he's mad, demanding a reason and grabbing her wrist so hard it hurts. All she does is keep her lip from quivering, and lets him yell. It's what's best, she keeps thinking. She can't give him what he really wants, and all she wants is for him to be happy.

That's all she thinks as he packs his bags.

:-:-:-:-:-:

She is so alone.

It's quiet in the living room, with only the fire crackling beside her. It's not even a cold day, but she still lit the fire. It makes it seem like there's a presence in the room.

It's hurting her today. The knowledge that she let him go, that she probably damaged their relationship beyond repair. She never shows it when Rory's around. Acting cold and disdainful has never been so hard.

She pulls her legs up to her chest and holds them tight, letting her hair fall into her face. There are tear stains down her face, like paths carving their way to her chin. She didn't care about the Doctor, or even River right now. All she cared about was Rory. Rory, who still had no idea why his wife had kicked him out. Rory, who she was always waiting to see when she returned home or climbed into bed each night.

He waited two thousand years for her. And she let him go.

Amelia Pond, the girl who waited.

**AN: Let me know what you thought! It's my first time really writing like this, it was fun. Reviews are amazing.**

**xoxo,**

**J**


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